


Between a Rock and a Hard Place

by AmberBrown



Series: Reading between the Lines [10]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTSD, Post Savoy, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:55:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22945147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberBrown/pseuds/AmberBrown
Summary: After the massacre at Savoy how will Aramis recover. Is he recovering? Porthos risks everything for his friend when things take a deadly turn.
Relationships: Aramis/Porthos
Series: Reading between the Lines [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1542634
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this took so long. I had some actual real life stuff get in the way. :-( But finishing this is a bit cathartic.
> 
> This follows on from the previous story.

They trotted through the quiet streets in the early hours of the morning. Porthos was pleased they had arrived when it was still quiet. He wanted to get to Athos’ rooms and off the street as quickly as possible. He had paid a couple of lads to take a message to the garrison as they neared Athos rooms. He wanted the stable boys to come to collect their horses, the last thing he wanted to do was force Aramis to face any of the other Musketeers. He knew his friend would have to return to the garrison at some point, but not yet, and certainly not before the other men had been updated by the Captain. It would not be the best option for Aramis to be forced to relate what had happened at Savoy to the other men. The men would want to know why Aramis had survived when all the other men had been killed. 

Aramis had become more focused and alert as the long journey back to Paris had gone on. Although he was still very quiet. Porthos enjoyed their companionable silences, but Aramis was in danger of disappearing into a deep depression. He did not expect his friend to simply move on after the massacre. Porthos would have been more concerned if Aramis had carried on as if nothing had happened. What Porthos wanted his friend to do was to talk to him about it, not hide it away, not build another barrier. Aramis was already hiding behind one facade; the man did not need to add to it. 

They had been close to breaking that facade before Aramis was deployed to Savoy. Aramis had begun to accept himself for who he was, beginning to accept that what he was, what he wanted was not wrong. It might have been wrong in the eyes of the law, the Church, and the Churches followers but it was not wrong as far as Porthos was concerned. The rules that had been created centuries ago were cruel and wrong. It annoyed Porthos that Aramis had been so conflicted by them. It had brought Porthos joy when Aramis was starting to see the rules as arbitrary and pointless. 

They had been at the start of what Porthos hoped would be a journey of discovery for Aramis. He had hoped to show his friend what it was to be with a man and relax and enjoy himself and not feel guilt based on ridiculous rules that meant nothing except to people in power.

But all Porthos’ hopes for what might have happened between them had been dashed by the massacre. Aramis had been injured and left confused and conflicted. He felt to blame when there was no blame to be felt. 

‘We could go straight back to the garrison,’ said Aramis quietly. 

‘No,’ replied Porthos with a shake of his head. ‘The Captain wants to be the one to talk to the other men. You’re still recovering. Athos has offered his spare room and you are going to make use of it for a couple of days at least.’

‘I don’t want to hide-’

‘You’re not hiding, Aramis. You took a blow to the head, you were delirious a few days ago, you’re not fit for work yet. And… And I want you to face this and not bottle it up. And I want to help you with that… If you’ll let me.’

Aramis looked away and did not respond. Porthos did not push his friend for an answer. They had reached the road before Athos’ rooms; the stable boys were already waiting for them. After removing their saddlebags, the boys led the horses away. Porthos told them that if they were asked, they should tell the other men the Captain would be arriving in a couple of days, he would explain what had happened when he arrived. They watched as the horses were taken out of sight before turning towards Athos’ rooms. Porthos glanced at Aramis who seemed to be deep in thought.

They climbed the stairs to their friend’s rooms. Porthos thought back to their last visit. Athos had inadvertently caused Aramis embarrassment by suggesting that he and Porthos might want to use the spare room if they wanted some privacy. Poor Aramis had been so shocked at the suggestion he had walked out. But, once Porthos had caught up with his friend they had talked. And Aramis had kissed him. Porthos could still taste Aramis on his lips, still relive every detail of that brief encounter and the promise of more to come. And then it had all gone wrong - Aramis had been deployed to Savoy.

Porthos wished they were using the spare room for more entertaining things. Wished they were not staying at Athos’ rooms for a few days so that Aramis could fully recover. Wished they were instead about to carry on where they had left off before the massacre. 

Aramis went straight through to the spare room, which was really the larger of the two bedrooms, Porthos watched him put his saddlebags down and lay his hat on top of them. His friend remained standing for a few seconds before sitting on the edge of the bed, his head slightly bowed. Porthos quietly sat on the other bed facing Aramis, their knees close enough to brush against each other. He watched Aramis who had not moved.

‘We’ve both been in battles,’ said Porthos, ‘we’ve both seen horrific things, experienced horrific things. And you know, as well as I, that men can go mad if they suffer too much trauma like that. I’ve seen men, known good men who have let the horrors eat away at them. And I do not want that to happen to you, Aramis.’

Porthos leaned forward and rested his hand on Aramis thigh. Aramis looked at the hand for a few seconds before responding. 

‘I will deal with it,’ he said quietly. ‘But right now, all I really want to do is sleep… if that’s alright?’

Porthos smiled, ‘of course. I’m not going anywhere - ‘

‘I don’t need watching - ‘

‘No, but I want to stay nearby, for when you want to talk.’

Aramis nodded slowly before rising from the bed and silently slipping out of his belts, doublet and boots. Porthos knew that Aramis was liable to shut himself away and lock the trauma away at the same time. He knew his friend would need to be encouraged to talk, Porthos would have to be careful to stop short of bullying him. 

As Aramis stretched out on the bed, lying on his side, facing away, Porthos knew he would have his work cut out.

MMMM

It did not take Aramis long to slip into what looked like a peaceful sleep. There were no bad dreams, no waking in fear and no talking in his sleep. Porthos had expected Aramis to sleep fitfully. He had watched his friend carefully on their journey back to Paris, each night his friend had slept well. They had been sleeping side by side and when they camped in secluded spots Porthos had slept next to Aramis, draping his arm across his friend. Aramis had not spoken about the proximity, but he had equally never tried to stop him. 

Porthos worried that, although Aramis appeared to be sleeping well, he was slipping into an almost constant exhaustion. Although he was hiding it well. Once he talked, Porthos decided, Aramis would start to feel better. 

He had slipped out of his doublet and boots and swung his legs up on the other bed. Porthos knew that Aramis would be fine on his own, but they had been together since leaving Savoy and he was reluctant to go out in case his friend did wake up in confusion. 

He thought back again to the kiss they had shared and the promise of more. Porthos had spent many hours thinking about what they would do together. They had shared a bed a few times but done nothing more than lay together. Porthos had still enjoyed the closeness, his arm over Aramis’ chest, feeling the steady rise and fall as Aramis breathed during the night. Porthos wondered what Aramis would enjoy during a more involved encounter. They had both been deliberately allowing any touch, accidental or deliberate, to linger longer than was necessary. When he had been injured Porthos had enjoyed, despite the pain, the feeling of Aramis’ dexterous fingers dealing with his wounds. The gentle touch welcomed and wanted. 

Aramis was learning to enjoy the feelings. He had until very recently thought that what he wanted - his urges - were sinful, bad, evil things. Now that Aramis was coming to terms with the fact that it was alright to want to be with another man, he had been slowly exploring the possibilities. They had not had a chance to properly talk about what each of them wanted, Porthos knew what he wanted, but Aramis was still finding himself.

Although, was that all gone? 

‘I’m sorry,’ said Aramis quietly.

Porthos looked across at his friend, he had been unaware that Aramis had woken and twisted onto his back.

‘I’m sorry this happened.’

Porthos furrowed his brow, ‘it wasn’t your fault.’

Aramis managed a wan smile, ‘I know I didn’t cause it. I know I couldn’t have stopped it… not on my own… there were too many of them…’

He stared off into the distance for several seconds, Porthos wondered if Aramis had stopped talking.

‘... I think… what we have… had… I think we shouldn’t… It would just feel wrong.’

Porthos tried not to react, he was glad when Aramis looked away. His friend probably knew his words would upset him. He did not know what to say. Porthos chose not to say anything. 

‘But,’ continued Aramis, ‘I do want to fully recover. I owe them that at least. If there is ever a chance for me to avenge their deaths… I want to take it.’

That at least was something, thought Porthos, as he battled not to react to his friend’s words. 

MMMM

Two days later…

The sombre journey accompanying the bodies of his comrades had not been easy. They had been forced to go at the pace of the three large carts that the dead Musketeers and cadets had been transported on. Treville had paid the farmers well for the inconvenience of the loss of their carts for a couple of weeks. As they had approached Paris Treville had gone ahead to speak to the men, to prepare them before the arrival of their fallen friends, their brothers. 

Athos had not known the men as long as many of the other commissioned men, but he still felt the loss. He had known most of them to talk to, but he knew that some close friendships would have been lost during the fateful training exercise. And then there would be the questions. The inevitable questions. Why had Aramis survived? How had he survived? And where was Marsac? 

None of them knew where Marsac had gone, Athos suspected they never would. In one respect he was pleased the man had disappeared. He felt a little selfish for thinking that way, but the man had been a negative influence on Aramis who had not been able to see it in his conflicted mind. Porthos had confidentially told him how Aramis could not even start to relax and be himself around his friend. Marsac would have turned Aramis in if he had known about his inclinations. Not something a friend should consider, let alone be capable of, thought Athos. 

As he neared the garrison his thoughts turned to what the next few days would be like for Aramis. His friend would have to return to the garrison and face the rest of the Musketeers. Athos just hoped Aramis would not find it too difficult, but only time would tell. 

An honour guard had been formed by the Musketeers and cadets as the carts pulled up outside the garrison. Some of the cadets were visibly shaken by the incident, even some of the Musketeers, the ones that had yet to be involved in a battle seemed shocked. The older men were hiding their grief well, but Athos could see it in their eyes. 

Treville led a salute of the fallen men before they slowly and reverently removed body after body until the carts could be sent back to Savoy, back to the site of the murder of the twenty soldiers.

Some of the men had already volunteered to take charge of the bodies. Treville stood a silent vigil for a few minutes before turning to Athos.

‘I’m going to the Palace,’ he said. ‘I have to update the King. Twenty men from his Musketeers have died, he should be told.’

‘I do not envy you,’ replied Athos. ‘I would like to visit Aramis and Porthos, check that they have made it back.’

Treville nodded, ‘make sure Aramis knows there is no rush for him to return here. I know he will want to, but he needs to be ready to face the other men.’

Athos nodded, ‘sooner or later, I doubt there is a correct amount of time to wait.’

MMMM

Athos made his way towards his rooms, he wondered what would greet him. Would Aramis be more or less back to his normal self, he certainly hoped so. Athos knew that Aramis and Porthos had helped him during his brief spell as a cadet and he was grateful they had been there. They had not crowded him, they had not bombarded him with questions about his past, they had simply been there. Athos wanted to repay the favour; it was unfortunate he was in a position to do so. He would not wish what Aramis had been through on anyone. 

One of the larger markets was in full swing along the road, Athos was forced to slow his pace and step around the dawdling Parisians as they bartered and purchased goods. The stallholders were calling out trying to attract business, enticing customers from rivals. Athos skirted around the crowds until he spotted a familiar figure talking to a woman at a stall selling pies. 

Porthos was giving the woman some coins as Athos reached him, he glanced up with a smile.

‘Do you want one?’ he asked, pointing at what Athos suspected was supposed to be a mutton pie, but probably contained a mixture of unknown meats. 

He nodded, he had enjoyed the woman’s pies several times before and had learned not to think about what might have been within them. The woman quickly wrapped up a third pie.

‘They’re still ‘ot,’ she said with a smile, ‘fresh this morning.’

They thanked the woman and turned away, heading towards Athos’ rooms. 

‘How is he?’

‘He’s sleeping a lot but doesn’t seem to be rested. He’s not dreaming or restless. He just seems tired. He’s a lot more focused than he was,’ said Porthos with a shrug of his shoulders. 

Athos nodded, ‘I suppose only time will tell. Has he told you any more about what happened?’

‘Not yet, he says he will. Perhaps he will once he’s had a good meal.’

Athos pushed the door to the house open and led Porthos up the stairs. The door to his rooms was ajar.

‘I shut the door,’ remarked Porthos.

Concerned, Athos pushed the door open and stepped into the living area. Porthos followed dropping the pies onto the table before walking through to the bedroom. 

‘He’s gone.’

‘How long was he alone for?’

‘No more than ten minutes, I only went to the pie stall,’ replied Porthos the worry evident on his face.

‘He cannot have gone far,’ said Athos, as much to himself as to Porthos. 

Without further consultation, the two Musketeers returned to the street. They stopped on the doorstep looking each way along the busy road, searching for Aramis amongst the throngs of people. 

‘You looking for your soldier friend?’ 

Athos looked down at the small old man sitting by the steps. The landlord's elderly father had a rickety chair that he perched on to watch the people go by whilst he smoked his pipe.  
‘He left just after you, Monsieur,’ the man said with a nod towards Porthos. ‘He was heading towards the church.’

With a nod of thanks Athos walked purposefully towards the church. 

‘I should have thought of that,’ muttered Porthos who had fallen into step beside him, ‘he was bound to want to go there.’

‘We should let him have a few moments there, the peace might help him,’ said Athos who knew that Aramis was a committed churchgoer despite it being at odds with his sexual inclinations. 

The church had several steps leading up to large double doors. There were a few beggars asking for alms of each person that passed them. Some people were generous, others were not. Aramis had just emerged from the church and paused on the top step to drop a couple of coins into a young girl’s cup. The girl smiled up at him, her gap-toothed grin marred by the dirt and scars of a harsh life on the streets. 

Porthos raised his hand to attract their friend’s attention but Aramis was looking at someone else. 

Three Red Guardsmen were walking up to him. Deschamps was leading two of his friends, Jean and Simon. The hangers-on were making comments to Deschamps who was nodding, an evil grin playing on his lips. Aramis moved away from the beggar girl who had read the situation and darted off to hide behind one of the pillars that flanked the doors of the church. 

‘I heard you stood by as the rest of the regiment was slaughtered around you…’

Deschamps was a few paces ahead of Jean and Simon who had both spotted that they were not alone. Simon turned towards Athos and Porthos his hand on his sword.

‘I heard you offered yourself to the enemy so that they’d spare you. Once a tart always a tart… is that what your mother taught-’

Aramis' reaction was lightning fast, Athos was impressed. Despite his lethargy, his friend had managed a swift punch to the Red Guardsman’s jaw before the man had a chance to react. Deschamps stumbled back, his hand reaching up to his face as he did so. Jean grabbed him before he could fall to the floor. 

Aramis squared up to Deschamps, anger in his eyes, his breathing quick. As he moved forward to have another go at the man who had taken pleasure in insulting him and their dead friends Porthos grabbed him firmly. Aramis tried to pull away for a few seconds before allowing his friend to drag him away. 

‘You saw that,’ said Simon, looking around at the people who had paused to watch the brief scuffle between the two soldiers. ‘You saw the Musketeer attack my friend. It was unprovoked.’

Athos was annoyed to see a few people nodding and muttering their agreement to Simon’s statement. The slight Guardsman smirked at the Musketeers.

‘We should go,’ said Athos under his breath. 

Porthos nodded and forced their still worked up friend around and away from Deschamps and his friends. Aramis resisted for a few seconds before placidly allowing Porthos to walk him back to Athos’ rooms. 

They reached the rooms without further incident. Athos locked the door behind them as Porthos pushed Aramis into a chair at the table and took his friends hands to check if he was injured. Aramis stared at the bruises that were forming on his knuckles, his expression one of confusion.

‘Did I punch someone?’ he asked without looking up.

Porthos looked at Athos with a concerned expression, ‘don’t you remember what just happened?’

Aramis finally looked up and shook his head.

Porthos glanced at Athos, the concern reflected in both their expressions.


	2. Chapter 2

_Two Weeks later… ___

__Treville sat in his office staring at the letter from the Cardinal. He had read the letter several times taking in the implications. The stalemate that his Musketeers had found themselves in was now affecting him._ _

__Deschamps had reported the assault by Aramis to the Cardinal. Deschamps had told Richelieu that Aramis had attacked him in the street for no reason. There were witnesses that agreed with Deschamps, two other Red Guardsman and several passers-by. It was known that there was bad blood between Aramis and Porthos and Deschamps and his little gang of hangers-on. And now Aramis had apparently tried to harm Deschamps in broad daylight for no reason._ _

__Treville knew it was a lie. Treville knew what had really happened, Athos and Porthos had described how Deschamps had taunted Aramis verbally when he knew the man was still recovering from the injuries he had received at Savoy. Porthos had said that it looked as though Deschamps had been waiting for Aramis to leave the church so that he could confront the Musketeer in a public place. The conniving Red Guardsman had managed to pick on Aramis when he was at a low, compromised by the very recent loss of many of his friends._ _

__Now Richelieu was taking advantage of the situation. He had written to Treville to tell him that he would not report the incident to the King - Treville guessed he was supposed to feel grateful for that - but only on the condition that nothing further happened. Striking a fellow officer was a very serious offence. Had the incident been reported Aramis would have been lucky to only lose his commission. The King would have taken the assault very seriously. He would have no doubt imposed a ridiculous punishment to appease the embarrassment the incident had caused._ _

__Treville knew that the Cardinal knew what had gone on between Deschamps and his Musketeers. The Cardinal knew that Porthos was responsible for killing two of the Red Guardsmen when they had attacked Aramis. Treville had not been able to report the attacks on Aramis and Porthos by Deschamps because of the two deaths. The Cardinal would have demanded that Porthos be arrested and charged with the murders of two of his men. Treville could not take the risk that the King would have either not listened to all the evidence or have simply sided with the Cardinal. The chances of Porthos being hanged for the deaths of the guardsmen was too great a risk. They had let the matter drop._ _

__And now Aramis had unwittingly brought it back to the forefront of the Cardinal’s mind._ _

__The fact that Aramis had no memory of hitting Deschamps was another worry the Captain had to deal with. Athos had reported what had happened. Treville had listened intently as Athos explained that Aramis had no recollection of the event a few minutes after it had happened. Aramis had seemed fine other than lacking a few minutes of memory._ _

__They had considered keeping Aramis away from the garrison for a few more days, but the man had insisted that he was fine, that he would make sure he kept away from Deschamps and that he wanted to at least try to get back to normal._ _

__After a few awkward conversations with some of the other men, Aramis had been left alone by the Musketeers and Cadets. He had spent time some explaining what he could remember of the massacre to any of the men that felt the need to know. Treville could tell it had hurt Aramis every time he had gone over the sketchy details he could remember, but he had not shied away. The Captain was sure it was his openness that helped the other men to accept that there was nothing Aramis could have done and that it was just luck that he had survived. It had, however, not taken long for Marsac’s name to become only spoken in hushed hated tones. The missing Musketeer was considered a traitor for abandoning his fellow soldiers._ _

__Athos and Porthos were constantly there, keeping an eye on Aramis. Aramis had accepted that he would have them as chaperones for as long as was necessary. Treville suspected that the proximity of his two friends was helping him with his recovery._ _

__They just had to keep an eye on Aramis. Watch out for any further odd behaviour and keep him away from the Red Guard._ _

__MMMM_ _

__The four disgruntled men that had decided to take their frustrations out on three Musketeers were regretting that decision. Athos had to admit to quite enjoying showing the tradesmen that they could not simply walk into the Palace. They could not simply demand to see the King. The men were only trying to protect their livelihoods, but they were going about it in the wrong manner._ _

__Athos knocked aside the roughhewn sword the man in front of him was using. The slow attempt at a slice had been easy to parry. After a couple of minutes of fighting the man was already slowing down significantly. He had not been particularly fast to start with. Athos had allowed the man to swing his sword a few times, gauging his level of ability within a few seconds. Or rather his lack of ability. The young apprentice blacksmith had not built up the muscles he would need to work at the anvil day after day. Had he been a few years into his training he might have been able to land a decent blow with the sword, but his slices and thrusts were weak and easily dealt with. The man left himself open for the third time, Athos decided he had grown bored, he stepped into the man and punched him across the face causing him to stumble back a few paces and crash into the man that Porthos had pushed away at the same time. The pair ended up in an undignified heap on the ground._ _

__Porthos was left with an old man, the leader of the foursome who was fighting with more skill but who was showing his age._ _

__The fourth man, who was fighting Aramis, had some skill, but nothing compared to the competent Musketeer. Athos enjoyed watching his friend at work, drawing the man in for a few seconds before going in for the kill. Aramis expertly twisted his sword at the last second striking the man with the flat of the blade. His opponent would be left with nothing more than a bruise to his arm and his pride._ _

__As the man staggered to the side, shocked, trying to work out if he had been injured or not, the man Porthos was fighting lost his footing and sank to his knees. Porthos, who towered over the short man, pointed his sword at him. The man looked up for a few seconds before glancing at his fellow tradesmen. He looked resigned. They knew they had lost. The first man to fall was back on his feet, he helped the older man up and between them, they supported each other away._ _

__The three Musketeers watched the men go, waiting until they were out of sight before pushing their swords back into their belts. Porthos turned to Athos with a smile._ _

__‘Felt good,’ he said._ _

__Athos nodded before he noticed that Porthos’ smile had faded, he was staring beyond him, towards Aramis._ _

__Aramis had not moved, he was still staring in the direction the tradesmen had gone, his sword still in his hand. He appeared ready for a fight, but there was no more fight to be had._ _

__‘Aramis?’_ _

__Athos reached out and touched Aramis on the shoulder. Aramis blinked a couple of times before slowly turning to look at them. He looked unfocused for several seconds. When he did focus and looked at them instead of through them a worried look crossed his face._ _

__‘Did I forget something again?’_ _

__Porthos had moved to stand on Aramis’ other side, he gently took Aramis sword from him and slipped it back into his belt. Athos could see the concern on Porthos face._ _

__‘We just had a fight with four annoyed traders,’ said Porthos._ _

__Aramis looked around, his gaze going to the ground which showed evidence of their movements in the scuffed-up earth._ _

__‘Let’s get back to our posts,’ said Aramis after a few seconds._ _

__Athos glanced at Porthos who shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. They were not in a position to do much about what had happened. They were still on duty, and as none of them had been hurt in the skirmish had no excuse to leave._ _

__Aramis was already walking back to the Palace entrance they had been watching as if nothing had happened._ _

__‘We have to tell the Captain,’ said Athos as they slowly followed their friend._ _

__Porthos nodded, ‘I know. What if this happens in the middle of a fight? What if he just stops when he should be fighting?’_ _

__Athos sighed, since the brief altercation with Deschamps, Aramis has shown no further signs of anything untoward. He had been almost back to his normal self. They had caught him staring off into the distance on occasion, no doubt distracted by thoughts of the massacre which was understandable. They were keeping an eye on him and watching out for Red Guardsmen, but on the whole, they had been carrying on as normal. Athos had yet to be involved in a large-scale battle, he did not know how the mind was affected by it. He knew what it was to deal with something very traumatic, but he also knew that different people dealt with trauma in different ways. He had turned to the bottle, Aramis appeared to have hidden it away. The thing that Porthos had not wanted his friend to do had happened. Athos did not know all the details of Aramis’ past, but he did know that the man had carefully constructed a wall within himself. A facade that hid his true self. The trauma of the massacre was only adding to that wall._ _

__They had reached Aramis who had retaken his spot by the Palace entrance. The doors were mainly used by the nobles who were trying to curry favour with the King, in the middle of the afternoon it was quiet, they could talk without being disturbed._ _

__‘I don’t know why it’s happening,’ said Aramis looking them both in the eyes. ‘This is not the first time… and me hitting Deschamps is not the only other time either.’_ _

__Athos glanced at Porthos who looked shocked. They had not been aware of Aramis being affected at other times._ _

__Aramis looked down, ‘I was sparring with a cadet. That new lad, Jacque, I knocked him off his feet. The next thing I remembered was watching him leave the infirmary. I was sitting at the table with a cloth in my hand, I think I’d been cleaning up some grazes he’d managed to get. I must have acted normally; he didn’t mention anything.’_ _

__‘Why didn’t you say?’ asked Porthos, his tone filled with worry._ _

__‘I didn’t want to bother you.’_ _

__Athos sensed the conversation might take a more private turn between the two men. He walked a few yards away to give his friends some space. He could still hear most of what was said between them._ _

__‘Well I want to be bothered by it,’ said Porthos, ‘how can we help you if you don’t talk to us.’_ _

__Aramis did not respond but looked a little put out by the comment._ _

__‘I want to help you. You’re shutting it away. You’ve not faced it. You said you’d talk about it and you haven’t -’_ _

__Aramis was about to respond but Porthos put his hand up to stop his friend._ _

__‘No, you haven’t. You’ve told us what happened, you’ve recounted the attack, but you’ve not really talked about it from your perspective. You’re bottling it up like your childhood. You’re going to take the blame, make it your fault. When it isn’t. Just like what happened to you as a child wasn’t your fault. You’re hiding away. And it’s affecting your work.’_ _

__Porthos paused for a moment, before he continued quietly, almost too quietly for Athos to hear._ _

__‘It’s affected us. We had something before this happened and now, we don’t… because you won’t face it.’_ _

__Aramis looked at Porthos, ‘I told you it would be disrespectful for us to carry on,’ he said._ _

__Athos started to wonder if he should move further away, completely out of earshot._ _

__‘It’s just so frustrating that you can’t let it go.’_ _

__‘Maybe that’s just the kind of man I am,’ suggested Aramis, taking a step closer to Porthos. ‘Maybe I can’t deal with this sort of thing because of what I am. Maybe it’s all a punishment for what I do.’_ _

__Aramis glared at Porthos for several seconds before walking away. They watched him walk out of the Palace gates, towards the city._ _

__‘That could have gone better,’ said Athos as he re-joined his friend._ _

__‘I shouldn’t have pushed him,’ said Porthos. ‘I just wish he’d talk. He’d feel better. I know he would.’_ _

__‘I agree,’ replied Athos._ _

__‘You do? You’re not exactly a man who puts his thoughts and feelings out on show.’_ _

__‘No,’ agreed Athos, ‘but I am not being affected by that, am I?’_ _

__Porthos nodded, ‘perhaps he’s reached the point where he can’t keep it all in anymore and that’s why this is affecting him.’_ _

__‘What he witnessed would be enough to destroy most men,’ agreed Athos sadly._ _

__MMMM_ _

__Porthos wished he had not been so harsh to his friend, had he pushed Aramis even further away? When Aramis had told him that he did not want to continue with their burgeoning relationship Porthos had been devastated. He had hidden how hurt he was, he had secretly hoped that if Aramis had continued to explore their relationship it might have helped him to overcome the shock of Savoy at the same time._ _

__A distraction._ _

__Porthos would have been more than happy to be a distraction for Aramis if it helped him. Now, as he watched his friend walk away, he felt that he had let Aramis down. Had he missed the fact that Aramis was more affected than he was letting on? Should he have seen it?_ _

__‘I’ll find someone to take over for us,’ said Athos. ‘He should not be alone. Even if we just follow him at a distance.’_ _

__Porthos nodded as Athos walked away._ _

__He wondered if he could have handled the situation differently. Should he have been more forceful? If he had insisted that Aramis open up about the attack, they might not have now found themselves in the situation they were in. Aramis was becoming a liability. Not only to himself but to other people. The Captain was already worried, Porthos wondered if Aramis was on borrowed time. He could not imagine his friend as anything other than a Musketeer. Porthos did not want to see his friend fade away, a shadow of a once brilliant soldier, shut up within his own mind, unable to deal with what had happened at Savoy._ _

__Porthos slowly followed Aramis as he walked along the road, Athos caught him up after a couple of minutes. They followed their friend for several minutes. Aramis did not seem to be heading anywhere in particular. He was not walking towards the garrison or back to Athos’ rooms. What worried them more was that Aramis did not seem focused. He was not watching his surroundings; he was lost in thought._ _

__They ensured they kept as far back from Aramis as they could without losing sight of him. The last thing they wanted was for Aramis to see them following him and actively try to get away from them. Although thought Porthos, he doubted Aramis was aware of very much at that moment._ _

__When Athos grabbed his arm and pointed at another man ahead of them Porthos could not help a muttered curse._ _

__Deschamps was also following Aramis. He was much closer than either of the Musketeers but still far enough back that, even if he were alert, Aramis might not have realised he was being followed. The Red guard was out of uniform, dressed in a simple black doublet a wide-brimmed hat pulled low over his face. It was obvious that Deschamps was following Aramis with some nefarious purpose in mind. They all knew that if Aramis was confronted again, he would probably lash out at Deschamps, particularly as he was not himself._ _

__Without consultation, the two Musketeers quickened their pace. They could not leave Aramis to brood alone any longer, whether he wanted the company or not, he was not going to be left to deal with Deschamps on his own._ _

__They were not quick enough. Deschamps had caught up with the oblivious Musketeer. Aramis had no time to react as he was grabbed from behind and forced into a quiet alleyway. Porthos looked further along the road, he spotted the uniforms of two Red Guardsmen, they nodded to Deschamps as he pushed his surprised victim off the main road. The whole situation had been set up. Deschamps had been biding his time for an opportunity to have another go at Aramis. The vengeful Red Guard had never forgiven Aramis for the part he played in getting him thrown out of the Musketeers._ _

__Porthos broke into a run, Athos was beside him. The Red Guard saw them and started to make their own way towards the alleyway. The Musketeers knew they had to get their first._ _

__The dank, dirty street, it’s filthy cobbles covered in grime was the perfect place for an attack. It was only used by a few people as a shortcut, most Parisians steered clear for fear of attacks from the shadows._ _

__There was just enough light from above for Porthos to take in the scene. He felt sick at what he saw._ _

__Deschamps had managed to push Aramis firmly against the wall of one of the buildings that bordered the street. The Guardsman had a dagger in his hand aimed squarely at Aramis’ chest. The man was not looking to merely cause Aramis harm, Deschamps was trying to kill Aramis, or at least to get his victim to think that. But Aramis was fighting back, he had not been able to draw any of his weapons so was restricted to pushing Deschamps away. Aramis had managed to get the heel of his right hand under Deschamp's chin, he forced the man’s head up, causing Deschamps to take the smallest of steps back. The space was all that Aramis needed, he butted his opponent, catching him on the forehead. Deschamps staggered back, the dagger scratching harmlessly across the leather of Aramis’ doublet and belts. Aramis stepped forward and after a few seconds grappling together, punched Deschamps causing him to stagger further back. Deschamps fell to the ground. He tried to get back up for a few seconds before slumping back down slightly on his side. He did not move again._ _

__Aramis stared at Deschamps._ _

__Porthos reached his friend, grabbing him around the shoulders, pulling him back a few paces. Aramis limply allowed himself to be moved, much as he had after the previous encounter with Deschamps. Aramis had disconnected with himself again, staring at nothing._ _

__‘He’s dead.’_ _

__Porthos looked away from Aramis, towards Athos who was crouched next to Deschamps. The fallen man was also staring at nothing, his unseeing eyes glazed as a pool formed underneath him, rivulets of blood chasing around the cobbles. Athos was pointing at Aramis’ hand. Porthos looked down. The bloody dagger was still clutched tightly in his friend’s right hand. Somehow Aramis had pulled the dagger from Deschamps and managed to turn it back on the attacker._ _

__Athos looked at Aramis, ‘they’ll know he did it. This was set up so that they would be found fighting.’_ _

__They both glanced towards the entrance of the alleyway, the two Red Guardsmen would be there in seconds. There were enough Parisians on the main road to act as witnesses. Even though it had been Deschamps that had forced Aramis off the road, Deschamps had become the victim in the carefully thought out plan. Deschamps had wanted Aramis to hit him again with witnesses. A second assault would have been enough to see Aramis in serious trouble. Deschamps plan had worked a little too well._ _

__‘He’ll hang,’ said Athos who was looking at the still vacant Aramis._ _

__‘No, he won’t,’ Porthos said, his mind already working through several scenarios. ‘Take him back to your rooms. Make sure he stays there.’_ _

__‘We were seen,’ said Athos, urgency in his voice, ‘he can’t run.’_ _

__‘He ain’t running,’ said Porthos._ _

__Athos stood up and moved to stand on the other side of Aramis who remained where he was, simply staring into the distance._ _

__Porthos reached for the dagger, prising it from Aramis’ hand._ _

__‘What are you doing?’_ _

__‘I’m taking the blame. I was defending Aramis.’_ _

__‘But… the other men you killed… before… you’re just taking his place on the gallows.’_ _

__‘We’ll see,’ said Porthos defiantly. ‘The Captain will have a better chance of saving me. Aramis was already on rocky ground after his supposed unprovoked attack on that bastard a few days ago.’ Porthos nudged the body at his feet. ‘But they can’t bring up the deaths of those two guards without the attacks on both of us being brought up as well.’_ _

__‘Porthos, you cannot…’_ _

__The two guards had appeared at the entrance to the alleyway, a few passers-by were curiously following them._ _

__‘I can,’ said Porthos quietly as he turned to face his fate, ‘I can do it for him.’_ _


	3. Chapter 3

Treville had argued for the life of another before, once he had talked to a desperate criminal who had taken a young girl captive. Saving the girls life had been a fraught affair. And he had negotiated for the lives of several soldiers that had been taken by the Spanish, in one of his early battles. 

But he had never had to save the life of a man he considered a son before. Porthos had been handpicked to join his Musketeers. The infantryman had proved himself capable very quickly, saving other people’s lives and serving with loyalty and exemplary behaviour. He had been the first of his group of cadets to be commissioned. Porthos did not deserve what was happening to him. Particularly as Treville knew the truth. Treville knew that Porthos had allowed himself to be arrested for the killing of Deschamps. The quick-thinking Musketeer had put himself in the line of fire to save Aramis. It was a risky ploy and relied on Treville having the ear of the King. Treville was going to do all that he could to save Porthos from the hangman’s noose because that was where Richelieu wanted the Musketeer to go. 

‘He is not denying killing Deschamps,’ said Treville.

‘Then he has admitted his guilt,’ replied the Cardinal.

They were standing in the presence of the King who was watching the exchange with interest. The large reception room had been cleared of courtiers, the Queen and her ladies had been dismissed, only four Red guardsmen, four Musketeers, the Cardinal and the King remained. 

Two of the Musketeers were standing by the door, watching the proceedings, pale-faced, worried for their comrade. 

Porthos was standing in the centre of the four Red Guardsmen. His arms shackled behind him, his weapons gone, his doublet askew. Porthos had an impassive expression, he was standing straight and tall, looking ahead.

Treville had spent a few minutes talking to Porthos alone, he had listened intently to what had really happened and how the events had been stage-managed to get Aramis in trouble. Treville knew that, had Porthos not taken the blame, there would have been nothing he could have done to save Aramis. Not after the previous, very public, attack on Deschamps. 

‘Porthos was protecting another of my men- ‘

‘Aramis,’ interrupted the Cardinal, ‘who had previously attacked Deschamps.’

‘As you well know,’ said Treville, ignoring the interruption, ‘Deschamps was responsible for several attacks on Porthos and Aramis a few months ago.’

‘And where is Aramis now?’ asked the Cardinal a slight sneer to his words. 

Treville looked at the Cardinal, wishing he could say what he really wanted to. They were both holding back in the presence of the King. Both men knew that neither of them could tell the King all that had happened, the implications of the feud between the two garrisons could have more of an impact if the King grew bored of the disputes. 

‘Aramis was injured by Deschamps before Porthos could intervene.’

The Cardinal could not come up with anything to dispute the claim from Treville. 

‘So, the dead man started the fight?’ asked the King.

Treville could see that the King had guessed there was more to the death of Deschamps than either he or Richelieu were saying. 

‘There are several witnesses that saw Deschamps grab Aramis and drag him into the side street,’ said Treville. 

‘And you have these witnesses?’

‘Yes, Majesty,’ said Treville, enjoying the look of annoyance on the Cardinal’s face. ‘I have two witnesses outside.’

The King nodded, Treville turned to the door, trying not to look at Porthos as he did so. He nodded to the Musketeers on guard. Jean-Paul stepped to the door and opened it, he looked out and beckoned the witnesses in. 

The two men, traders from the market close to the place Deschamps had died, stepped into the room. They had clearly made an effort to look at their best for the King. They approached and bowed. 

Richelieu spoke before Treville could, ‘what did you see?’

After the briefest of glances at Treville, the older of the two men answered, ‘we were taking stock, Majesty, and saw the Red Guardsman approach the Musketeer from behind, he grabbed the Musketeer and pushed him into the side street. The Musketeer was taken by surprise – ‘

‘Why are your men able to be taken by surprise?’ asked the King, a slightly annoyed look on his face.

‘Aramis was the man that survived the massacre at Savoy, Majesty. Although he is fully fit, he has on occasion become preoccupied with the incident. I believe it is a minor issue that will pass.’

The King looked a little sceptical for a few seconds but nodded to the traders to continue. The younger man took up relating what they had seen. 

‘We knew something was going to happen, Sire,’ said the man. ‘We saw that Musketeer,’ he pointed at Porthos, ‘and another one hurry into the side street. As we reached the street two Red Guards were there as well, they arrived a few seconds after us. The other Musketeer was supporting the man that had been attacked and that one,’ he nodded towards Porthos again, ‘was struggling with the man that died.’

The King nodded and waved his hand. The two men bowed and retreated, they again glanced at Treville who subtly nodded his thanks. The two men owed Treville a very big favour, their slightly embellished story was Treville trump card. 

‘Majesty,’ said the Cardinal, ‘Porthos killed one of my men.’

Treville saw the slight look of annoyance on Richelieu’s face, the Cardinal could not mention the other deaths that Porthos had caused due to the circumstances. 

‘But it seems to me that your man started it and started it some time ago,’ suggested the King. ‘You,’ he pointed at one of the Red Guards who took a step forward.

‘Majesty,’ said the man with a respectful bow.

‘Are you aware of the dispute between these men?’ asked the King. 

The Red Guardsman glanced at the Cardinal who nodded.

‘Yes, Your Majesty. Deschamps had wanted to be a Musketeer but was dismissed after attacking a commissioned man.’

Treville almost smirked when the Cardinal sighed and rolled his eyes. 

The guard continued, ‘when Deschamps and his friends joined the Red Guard they talked a lot about the two Musketeers that they wanted to get revenge on. We all thought it was just talk – ‘

The man looked at the Cardinal, realising he was probably talking himself out of his position. 

‘– but it wasn’t.’

The Cardinal was scowling at the Guard who looked down.

‘Thank you for your candour,’ said the King. 

The Guard bowed and stepped back in line. Treville vowed to talk to the soldier and offer him the chance to join the Musketeers if he was thrown out of the Red Guard. The man’s honesty was something Treville respected. 

The King turned his attention to Porthos.

‘It seems you acted with valour,’ he said, ‘stopping an attack on your friend. Although it seems there have been issues for some time between you and Deschamps. Perhaps more could have been done by your Captain. Unless you were keeping the issues to yourselves in the hope of dealing with it in an underhand way… which seems to have been the case.’

Treville was about to speak but the King looked at him with a raised eyebrow. The Captain stepped back.

‘It cannot be denied that you took a life… unnecessarily. You did not have to let this rivalry reach this point. If it was reported it could have been dealt with properly.’

Treville glanced at Porthos who was allowing a little worry to creep into his expression.

‘However,’ continued the King, ‘despite this being preventable it seems to me that there was fault on the part of the dead man as well. He made the first move. I believe, Porthos, that you were defending Aramis and yourself.’

‘Majesty – ‘ started the Cardinal.

The King glared at him; the Cardinal stepped back.

‘An example needs to be set; I cannot have my soldiers entertaining petty rivalries when they should be protecting their people. You will be punished for the death of a fellow soldier.’

Treville could not help holding his breath as the King paused, for a few seconds, probably making his final decision.

‘You will be flogged.’

Treville very slowly let out the breath, he did not want to draw attention to how relieved he was.

‘And,’ the King continued with a glance at the Cardinal who appeared to be about to complain, ‘I think it only fitting that a Guardsman should be allowed to carry out the punishment… but and this is not for your benefit,’ the King nodded towards Porthos, ‘I will allow the punishment to be carried out in private. It would not do for one of my Musketeers to be flogged in public.’

The King rose from his chair, he looked at the men in front of him for a few seconds. 

‘The punishment will be carried out first thing tomorrow morning, a few hours to contemplate your fate might make you think before you act next time.’

The King stepped down from his dais and walked from the room, the two Musketeers on guard opened the door and stood back for him to pass before following him at a respectful distance. 

The Cardinal flicked his hand towards his Red Guardsmen who closed ranks on Porthos and made to force him from the room.

‘If I may have a word with my man,’ said Treville with a scowl at the Cardinal.

Richelieu nodded towards the guards who stood back.

‘Privately,’ Treville said without taking his eyes off Richelieu.

After a few moments, the Cardinal nodded again, and the guards retreated to the doorway. Treville walked up to Porthos and led him to the other side of the room as far from the guards and the Cardinal as they could get.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Treville quietly.

Porthos shook his head, ‘it’s better than the alternative and it’s probably the best outcome.’

‘Porthos, you’re going to be flogged. You’ll be hurt and humiliated. They won’t hold back; you won’t be able to work until you are recovered… I cannot begin to imagine what made you do this… No… I can… I’m proud of you… I…’

Treville looked down, he did not know what to say to his Musketeer. His self-sacrificing Musketeer. 

‘You picked us for our loyalty as well as our soldiering skill, Captain,’ said Porthos. ‘If it was the other way around do you think Aramis wouldn’t do this for me?’

Treville looked back up, Porthos did not look scared or even resigned to his punishment, he looked prepared, more ready than Treville felt. 

‘Do you think Athos would let me recover at his place? I’d like to be with Aramis, I’m going to have some time where I can’t do much,’ said Porthos pragmatically, ‘I can use it to help Aramis.’

Treville chuckled, ‘I’m sure Athos will be more than happy for you both to stay at his rooms.’

The Cardinal coughed. Treville glanced at the waiting guards.

‘I will be there in the morning. You won’t be alone.’

He patted Porthos arm before stepping back. Porthos walked purposefully back across the room towards the waiting Guardsmen, who formed up around him.

‘Put him in the Chatelet for the night,’ said the Cardinal.

Treville watch as his brave Musketeer was escorted from the room. The Cardinal lingered in the doorway. Treville walked up to him, standing a little closer than was strictly necessary. 

‘This will be an end to the farce that has been allowed to build between our garrisons,’ he said firmly.

‘I do not know what you mean, Treville,’ said Richelieu.

‘After this, this debacle is finished with tomorrow morning, you will see to it that neither of my men is persecuted any further. And if you even consider telling the King about what else Porthos did, remember that Deschamps was the one that started this in the first place.’

‘Porthos would hang – ‘

‘No, he would not because I would see to it that they both left Paris. I would make sure they got far enough away from your oily grasp that you could not reach them. Then I would make sure the King knew everything. I would make sure he knew about Deschamps and his little gang attacking Aramis and Porthos and that you did nothing about it. The lack of discipline amongst your men is laughable.’

The Cardinal leaned into Treville, ‘I know it was Aramis who killed Deschamps and that Porthos is taking the blame because there was more chance of him getting away with it because he could claim to have been defending Aramis. You have as much to lose as I.’

Treville did not respond, he continued to scowl at the Cardinal.

The Cardinal glared back at Treville for a few seconds, ‘I will do as you ask,’ he said reluctantly, before sweeping from the room. 

MMMM

He had been pushed into the cell hard enough to cause him to stumble to the floor. The two guards that had pushed him laughed. They had been waiting for a reason to laugh and Porthos landing in an undignified head was the perfect opportunity. He did not turn to face them, he simply got to his feet and moved away from the barred door as they clanged it shut forcefully.

‘You’re the one that stopped him getting hanged,’ said one of the guards. ‘you can stay here for the night to watch him… Make sure you don’t fall asleep, or you might end up joining him in the morning.’

Porthos looked around in time to see the guard that had spoken truthfully at the Palace being barged by the other two guards as they walked away. The man stared in the direction the other guards had gone for a few seconds before looking down with a sigh. 

‘Thank you,’ said Porthos. ‘You didn’t have to do that. You could have kept quiet.’

The guard, a man the same age as him with short, light brown, curled hair looked at him with a small smile. 

‘We don’t all approve of what Deschamps was doing. Some of them joined his argument but there are a few of us who would just like to get on with being soldiers and not have the petty rivalry between our two garrisons. I know this has gone beyond petty… but you know what I mean.’

Porthos nodded, he stepped up to the bars and pushed his right hand through, the guard shook his hand.

‘LeClair,’ he said. ‘Jean LeClair.’

‘Thank you, Jean,’ said Porthos. ‘I hope you don’t end up in trouble for telling the truth back there.’

LeClair shrugged his shoulders and sighed again, ‘you’ve come off far worse.’

Porthos chuckled, ‘I think it could have been worse still,’ he said grimly.

Porthos moved to sit on the floor by the barred door. LeClair glanced along the corridor for a few seconds before joining him, stretching his legs out in front of him. 

‘I often think I made the wrong choice, joining the Red Guard. My father was a Guardsman and always wanted me to join up. I did it out of loyalty to his memory…’

‘You’d have preferred the Musketeers?’

LeClair nodded.

‘You could transfer. I bet after today Treville would consider you. He looked quite impressed when you spoke the truth earlier.’

The guardsman smiled, ‘I may find myself out of the Guards tomorrow. I’m quite tempted.’

The two soldiers settled down for what would be a long night. Porthos doubted he would sleep. He was worried about Aramis and he knew that Aramis would be blaming himself when he returned to his senses. Porthos hoped that Athos could keep his friend away until after the punishment had been carried out. The last thing Porthos wanted was for Aramis to try to stop the flogging and get himself in more serious trouble. 

MMMM

The next morning…

Athos sat at the table opposite Aramis who was looking at him with concern. His friend had woken alert and focused. When he realised where he was and that Porthos was missing he had known something was wrong. 

‘What’s the last thing you remember?’ Athos asked. 

Aramis glanced away, ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

Athos waited; he knew Aramis had not finished. 

‘I’ve not faced it have I. I knew a man, in my old infantry regiment. He had the same issue that I’ve got. He kept getting lost in his mind. Has anyone suggested I should be locked up yet?’

Athos shook his head, ‘what’s the last thing you remember?’

Aramis’ expression turned serious, ‘what did I do? Where’s Porthos?’

Athos raised his eyebrows, not wishing to ask the question again. 

‘I remember getting annoyed with Porthos. I remember walking away from my post at the Palace… that’s it.’

Athos nodded. He slowly talked through what had happened. He disliked seeing the distress the events caused his friend, particularly when Aramis went through a few moments thinking Porthos was going to hang in his place. Athos was quick to stop that particular line of thinking.

‘I need to put this right. It’s not right. He shouldn’t be doing this… I killed Deschamps – ‘

‘Aramis,’ said Athos firmly, laying a restraining hand on his friend's arm as he tried to rise from the table. ‘That is not what Porthos wants. Treville came around yesterday after the King had made his decision. You were still… absent. Porthos is adamant that he is prepared to take the punishment. If you hand yourself in, you would be hanged. The King only let Porthos off with a flogging because he believes Porthos was defending you… And, if you handed yourself in there is the possibility that Porthos would still hang. The King would probably change his mind. You cannot stop this.’

Aramis looked mortified. He blinked several times and took a couple of deep breaths. 

‘The Captain has spoken to the Cardinal. The issues you and Porthos have with the Red Guard will cease. After the punishment, the Cardinal has agreed that you two will not be persecuted any more. Whether we chose to believe that or not is another matter, but you shouldn’t have to continually watch out anymore. But that will only work if you do not draw attention to what went on. The Cardinal knows that Porthos killed two Guards, and he knows that you are the one that really killed Deschamps.’

‘I can’t believe Porthos did that for me. Risked his life for me…’

‘He cares about you. He wants you to recover. We all do. Aramis, you were the only survivor of a massacre. None of us expects you to just ignore it and carry on as normal. You have to face it and then learn to live with it. Let us help you. Let Porthos help you.’

Aramis took another deep breath before nodding.

‘But first, he will need our help, your help. Treville is going to bring him back here. Porthos wanted to come back here afterwards, he told Treville he’s going to use his time recovering to help you.’

Aramis glanced at the bedroom; Athos could tell his friend was planning what he would need to help the injured Musketeer when he arrived. Perhaps, thought Athos, focusing on helping someone else would help Aramis. 

‘There are bandages in the chest in my room,’ said Athos. ‘I’ll get them. Treville is going to bring your medical bag with him.’

‘We’ll need water and the fire in the bedroom should be lit. He’ll probably try to hide it, but he’ll get cold. He’ll feel it more for a bit…’ Aramis rose from the table and wandered towards the bedroom. ‘I have the herbs to deal with pain in my bag…’

‘Aramis,’ said Athos, ‘if you need anything you only need to ask.’

Aramis looked at him and nodded, ‘thank you. I wish it hadn’t come to this. I wish I’d not let this happen – ‘

‘You did not let this happen,’ said Athos firmly. ‘You were the victim. But now that you have accepted that you can begin to deal with it.’

Aramis managed a weak smile, ‘you’re a fine one to talk. One day we’ll get you to tell us what it is that you hide away.’

Athos shook his head, ‘my troubles can wait for now,’ he said.

They both looked around at the sound of the stairs outside creaking.


	4. Chapter 4

Treville had his arm around Porthos’ waist but Porthos was trying to walk unaided. His cloak was buttoned over his shoulders.

‘We came straight here from the Chatelet,’ said Treville. ‘They had nothing in place to deal with the injuries…’

Porthos was looking at Aramis.

‘This ain’t your fault,’ he said, trying to hide the pain from his voice.

‘In a way it is, Porthos, but you can argue with me about blame after I’ve dealt with your injuries. Let me help you first… then I would like you to help me.’

Athos glanced at Treville who looked relieved. 

Aramis stepped towards his friend and unbuttoned the cloak, Treville helped him to pull the heavy cloth away from the injured man. Porthos wilted slightly as the wounds on his back were brushed. Aramis took over supporting his friend and helped him through to the bedroom. Treville handed Aramis his medical bag as he went passed. 

‘We’ll be here if you need us,’ said Treville. 

Aramis nodded but did not reply. They watched as Aramis, who was probably at his most focused since the massacre, began to deal with his injured friend. Despite the fact that he was dealing with what was in front of him, putting everything else to one side, Aramis looked guilty. 

As Aramis helped Porthos to lie down Athos saw the state of his friends back, he could not help reacting. He looked at Treville who looked angry, Athos guessed his Captain had been holding in the anger until he had got Porthos away from the Red Guards. 

‘It was horrible,’ Treville said quietly, ‘the Cardinal had that brute of a man, LeBrun, wield the lash. The man did not hold back. Twenty lashes they gave him. Twenty.’

Treville shook his head in disgust and sighed. 

‘But he didn’t cry out. Not once. He wilted a bit at the end, but I’ve never seen anyone so defiant… If anything, he’s probably pissed them off even more.’

‘Neither of them will be out and about for a couple of weeks,’ said Athos. ‘Porthos will be unable and I cannot see Aramis leaving him. If you can spare me to keep an eye on them both I will happily act as a go-between. It is the least I can do after they helped me to gain my commission.’

Treville nodded, ‘you have already more than played your part in this, Athos. I cannot thank you enough.’

They watched as Aramis started to clean the lash wounds on Porthos’ back. They could see Porthos tensing up as he finally submitted to the pain.

‘I think Aramis is finally ready to admit he is suffering,’ said Athos, ‘this is… unfortunate, but I think it will help him.’

‘Yes,’ mused the Captain, ‘I don’t like my men going to these extremes to help each other… You three get on well. When they have both recovered and are back to full duties, I would like to team you up. There are a few other little groups that have formed amongst the other men – ‘

‘Thank you, Captain,’ said Athos, before turning his attention back to his friends. ‘I think they are both good for each other. Aramis has become too good at building walls around his issues, which is why I think this has caused him problems but Porthos and he had been forming a – closer – relationship before the massacre- ‘

‘I know,’ said Treville with a smile, ‘I spoke to Porthos about it. If it helps Aramis, I think it should be encouraged. And you clearly have no issue – ‘

Athos shook his head.

‘– then between you, you will help each other with whatever else is thrown your way.’

‘I will admit,’ said Athos, ‘that their friendship has helped me as well.’

‘I thought it might,’ said Treville with a smile. 

‘It is the least I can do to help them both now, after all this… this unfortunate business.’

Treville sighed again, his expression darkening, ‘I wish it had not come to this. I knew something was wrong from the moment I sent them on that damn exercise.’

MMMM

Porthos had defiantly remained silent each time the lash and its knotted straps had hit him. He had concentrated on his friend. On the man, he wanted to be more than just friends with. Aramis would be devastated; he would blame himself and Porthos did not want that. It was, to some extent, Aramis’ fault. But not purposefully. His friend had been left traumatised by the recent events at Savoy which only piled on top of the issues he already carried. Porthos wondered if he had been able to break down Aramis façade before the training exercise if Aramis would have suffered as much? Or would he simply have put a different wall up between his true self and the façade? 

When the Red Guardsman had swung the lash at him the final time, there had been a few muttered curses from the men standing around in the Chatelet yard. Someone had spat at him before the welcome sound of several men walking away. Porthos knew that the actual punishment was only half the ordeal. His injuries would have to be dealt with. He had no idea how bad the wounds were but the pain across his back and shoulders was horrific. He had to concentrate on not passing out. He had his eyes screwed shut. It had not been until he felt hands on his wrists untying him from the post that he realised he was not alone. True to his word Treville was there. His Captain, with a gentleness that Porthos had not expected, helped him to kneel for a few minutes. He gently lay the heavy cloak over his bare shoulders. Porthos had not been able to hide a wince and a hiss of pain. The Captain had apologised as he buttoned the cloak.

The walk back to Athos’ rooms had been equally horrible. He had tried to walk on his own but the pull on his wounds kept making him sway, dangerously close to passing out. The Captain had tightened his grip, kept talking to him and assured him that he would be fine. 

The look on Aramis’ face as they had walked into the living area of Athos’ rooms would stick with Porthos for a long time. 

Aramis had helped him into the bedroom and steadied him as he lay down. 

‘Just keep still, let me work around you,’ said Aramis, his professional tone at odds to the obvious distress he was in. 

Porthos felt sorry for his friend. He knew that Aramis felt guilty, and to combat that guilt he was going to put his whole energy into dealing with the injuries Porthos had received. Porthos knew that he had to let Aramis do what he needed to do. Much as he wanted to get Aramis talking, he also knew his injuries would need dealing with first. 

Aramis dampened a cloth and began to gently clean the wounds.

‘Is it bad?’ asked Porthos.

‘You’re going to find moving difficult as it heals. You’ll have to take it very easy. You’ll be stiff and in a lot of pain… I’m sorry.’

Porthos contemplated his recovery as he felt his friend slowly moving the cloth over his back, never using more than a feather-light touch. Aramis was somehow able to go about his ministrations without causing any extra pain. He found himself drifting off. Porthos knew he was exhausted; he had not slept the previous night. The sleep that overtook him was welcome despite wanting to remain awake and start the healing process with Aramis.

MMMM

He had no idea how long he had slept for. He knew he was in pain and did not particularly want to move. He opened his eyes, the room was dimly lit, the tell-tale flicker of candles dotted around the room told Porthos that he must have slept for several hours. He could feel the warmth of the fire on his back. 

In front of him, lying on the other bed, Aramis was asleep, one arm reaching out slightly towards him. Aramis did not look peaceful, there was worry etched on his face. Porthos slowly eased his arm across the few inches that separated the beds. Without agitating his back, he managed to rest his hand over Aramis’, curling his fingers around slightly. The touch sent the familiar rush of excitement through him. He knew it was the wrong time to be thinking of such things, but Porthos could not help thinking about Aramis as more than a friend. Even if Aramis had told him he did not want to continue with whatever it was that they had started before the horrors of Savoy. 

Not for the first time, Porthos allowed himself to fantasise about what it might have been like to have a relationship with his friend. Would it have ruined their friendship? They had only known each other for a matter of months, but so much had happened in that time. They had both become the victims of nasty assaults at the hands of the same man. Deschamps had helped to draw them together. Much as he hated the now dead man, and knew he would not mourn for him, Deschamps had really been the catalyst that had thrown them together. Porthos wondered if Aramis would have continued to live his life of self-loathing, having illicit hidden trysts in dark alleyways with men he would never see again. Sating his needs and confessing his sins. 

Would Aramis go back to that hateful existence? Would it be worse for his friend? 

‘I’m sorry.’

As Aramis spoke Porthos felt his friend’s fingers tighten around his own. Aramis opened his eyes and looked at him.

‘You have nothing to be sorry about,’ said Porthos, his voice a little croaky.

Aramis sighed, ‘I know,’ he said with a hint of a smile, ‘I’m sorry that you are in pain. You passed out before I could give you a pain killer.’

Porthos huffed out a laugh, wincing at the pain he caused himself. 

‘No,’ he said as Aramis made to get up, his hand slipping away, breaking their contact. ‘Please stay there, I can put up with the pain for a few minutes. Let me just enjoy this for a moment.’

‘What?’ asked Aramis with confusion. 

‘Lying with you,’ replied Porthos. ‘I know you said you didn’t want us to carry on, but I can’t just stop. Please let me enjoy this. Even if I never get the chance to be this close to you again…’

Aramis relaxed back onto the bed, he purposefully reached for Porthos’ hand and clutched it.

‘I owe you that much,’ he said. ‘And I told you I’d talk. And I will. I promised Athos and the Captain. They left me with strict instructions to talk to you. You will be my captive audience.’

Porthos smiled, ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

After a few minutes that Porthos wished would last forever, he allowed Aramis to ease him up to sit. He let his friend hold the cup of painkiller for him as he drank the foul-tasting liquid. 

‘Talk then,’ said Porthos after he had managed to shuffle himself back to lie down on his side. 

Aramis went back to lying on the other bed, he stared at the ceiling for a few seconds. 

‘It was the lads screaming…’ he said, ‘the cadets. I know they’re supposed to be ready for battle, but none of us was expecting anything…’

MMMM

Several weeks before…  
Aramis had to hide a smirk as the red-faced cadet did his breeches back up. The suspected saddle sore had turned out to be a nasty bruise across the young man’s buttocks. Claude would not be sitting straight for several days. 

‘Here,’ Aramis said, handing the cadet a pot, ‘use this salve to ease the symptoms.’

Claude nodded before walking off, the usual spring very much missing from his step. 

Aramis turned away, unable to hide his grin any longer. 

‘You took far too much delight in that,’ said Marsac from behind him. ‘Poor lad probably thought his arse was on fire.’

‘He needs to learn to saddle his horse correctly. I think there’s a couple of them that could do with riding lessons. Who have you lumbered with patrol?’

‘Pierre and Bernard,’ replied Marsac with a glance at the Musketeer and Cadet as they were pulling on their cloaks.

The snow had started to fall shortly after they had finished pitching their tents. One of the older Musketeers, Jean, who liked to perpetuate the idea that he was a wise old sage to the younger cadets had told them it would snow a couple of hours beforehand. The cadets had been surprised when the previously blue sky had quickly darkened and the first few flakes had fallen. The fact that Jean had lived in the region and knew how to read the changes in the clouds had evaded the younger men. 

‘We can take over in a few hours. I doubt Bernard will last the night, he already looks ready to drop,’ chuckled Aramis.

‘Does it ever get easier?’ asked Marsac with a laugh of his own. 

Marsac slapped him on the back and wandered off to check on the cadets that had been set the task of building up the fires and sorting out their meal. 

The Cadets had behaved very well during the journey which had been uneventful. The Musketeers and transferring soldiers had entertained the younger cadets with tales of battles and skirmishes as they rode. The Cadets had been given different chores to get them used to working together and taking on any eventuality. The Musketeers had planned on splitting the men up the following day and pitting them against each other for some friendly rivalry. 

Aramis watched the men working as he tidied away his medical bag. He wished Porthos had been able to join them. But at the same time, he was pleased they had not left Athos on his own. Their friend was very close to getting his commission, Aramis did not want Athos to lose himself in the bottle before he got his chance. 

He thought back to the kiss he had shared with Porthos mere hours before he had left on the exercise. The promise of more had made Porthos’ eyes light up. Aramis had slowly come to realise he was wrong to try to deny what he was, who he was. And Porthos was the man that had helped him to find himself. Aramis wished he had met Porthos years before, he might have spared himself a lot of self-recrimination. 

As he wandered through the camp, pointing things out to the cadets that could be corrected or improved he wondered if any of the men there were the same way inclined as he was. He knew none would openly admit it, but he suspected there were more men like him. Men who repressed the feelings or only expressed themselves in very guarded moments. It saddened him, he was gradually accepting himself and wished that he could do so openly, but society would not accept him, or others like him. 

Aramis was glad he had found Porthos. Or rather that Porthos had found him. 

He wondered what it would be like when they were together again. What would they do? He smiled to himself, he actually felt a little aroused at the prospect. He had to stop that thought straight away. He had a job to do, cadets to look after. Porthos would still be there when they returned to Paris. 

MMMM

The meal had been tolerable. Marsac had berated the two cadets good-naturedly. The cadets had admitted the food was not good and openly praised two of the older cadets, whose meal the previous night had been the best up to that point. The two cadets in questions, brothers from the East of France had sheepishly admitted to having a cook for a father. They had been brought up learning how to cook for lots of people at once. 

‘The cheeky so and so’s knew what they were doing but didn’t tell any of us,’ remarked Marsac as they ushered the men to their tents after the meal had been finished. 

‘Sometimes keeping a trump card is a good thing,’ countered Aramis with a wink. 

Marsac shook his head, ‘if we’re to take over the patrol you need to put on a thicker shirt.’

Aramis nodded, ‘I’ll join you in a few minutes.’

Marsac wandered towards the edge of the camp as Aramis returned to their tent. The cadet they were sharing with was already asleep, snoring quietly, his cloak pulled up tightly under his chin. Aramis quietly pulled off his weapons and undid his doublet. He paused and listened for a few moments. Something seemed different although he could not work out what. He shook his head, guessing that he was probably as fatigued as the younger men, they had been riding for several days with only a few hours rest each night. 

He shrugged out of his doublet and reached for his saddlebag before pausing again. He realised what it was that had bothered him. There had been several hushed conversations going on in the other tents when he had pushed into his own. All the conversations had stopped at the same time. An eery silence had descended on the camp. Aramis felt his blood run cold. Something told him the silence was not a good thing. 

The gunshots and shouts started at the same time. Cries and screams quickly followed. 

MMMM

Now…

Porthos watched the tears threatening to fall from his friend’s eyes. Aramis was staring off into the distance as he spoke. True to his word Aramis had told him everything that had happened. He had needed to stop a few times when the memories became too much. All Porthos really wanted to do was gather his suffering friend up in a hug, but he could barely stand unaided, let alone grab Aramis and hold him tightly. 

Hearing Aramis talk about their mutual friends had been difficult for Porthos at times. He had been glad when Aramis had needed to walk away for a few minutes the previous evening. It had given Porthos a chance to gather himself, it would not have done for Aramis to see him upset when it was Aramis who was supposed to be the one that needed help. 

Aramis had spent some time dressing the wounds to Porthos’ back earlier in the day before helping him to stand and slowly walking with him to the living area. They had sat together at the table to eat a simple meal, Porthos was not really up to eating much, the pain-causing him to lose his appetite. 

Athos had visited twice to bring food and update them on what was happening in the garrison. Their friend had quietly packed a bag telling them he would sleep in Porthos’ room at the garrison for a few days to give them the time they needed. Yet again Porthos was grateful for his friends, although he was sure Athos saw it as repayment for their help towards him when he had first joined the garrison. 

‘I’ve remembered what happened during my blackouts,’ said Aramis as he cleared away the plates from their meal on the second evening. ‘When you were asleep this afternoon… it just came back. I can understand why you wanted… no… needed to take the blame for Deschamps death. There is no way anyone would have believed I was defending myself after I hit him.’

Aramis paused, he looked guilty again. Porthos was about to admonish his friend but Aramis spoke again.

‘Me hitting him was very deliberate. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted him to suffer. I don’t think I often let it get to me like that. I should have controlled myself. I think I needed an outlet… maybe if I’d talked sooner this,’ he made a vague gesture at Porthos’ injured back, ‘might not have happened.’

Porthos watched Aramis for a few seconds before responding.

‘I will never blame you for this,’ he said. ‘Yes, I took the blame to save you, but you were… ill, you were still recovering. Perhaps we could have kept a closer eye on you, but none of us could have predicted what happened.’

‘If you won’t let me blame myself at least let me be grateful for what you did. Bravest thing I’ve ever seen. It could have been worse, Porthos, you could have been hanged.’

‘I wasn’t,’ Porthos said with a smile. ‘And we should be able to put Deschamps behind us now, no more watching out backs constantly.’

Aramis nodded before stepping up beside him, Porthos accepted the help to stand and walk back to the bedroom. Aramis had slipped his arm around his waist, Porthos enjoyed the moment, wondering how many more he would get before their closeness was ended with his recovery. Porthos was sure Aramis lingered with each touch, more than was necessary, or perhaps he was imagining it. 

One thing Porthos had noticed about his friend was that the more he had talked, the more he had relaxed. He still looked haunted by the events but on the odd occasion Porthos had been awake when Aramis was asleep, he did not look as tense, he appeared to be sleeping properly, probably for the first time since the massacre. 

On the fourth day, Porthos was finally able to ease himself off the bed on his own, he walked through to the living area to find Aramis sat at the table staring off into the distance. He appeared to be in the middle of cleaning his gun, the parts lay scattered across the table, the cloth he had been using was twisted between his fingers. For a few moments Porthos wondered if Aramis had got lost in his mind again, he was not sure what he should do. Aramis blinked a couple of times before looking at him with an oddly shy smile and a slight look of guilt. He fiddled with the cloth in his hands for a few seconds.

‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Of course,’ replied Porthos as he slowly sat down, pleased that Aramis had not felt the need to assist him. 

‘I know I said before, that it was would be wrong… for us… to… be together…’

Porthos nodded, not wishing to remember how awful he had felt at the time. He had been dreading the end of the care Aramis was giving him, the time when they would not be in such close contact anymore. 

‘I think I was wrong to say that. I thought at the time that it was disrespectful… but the more I think about it… it’s not. I don’t think it would be wrong. Our friends would have wanted us to continue with our lives. Perhaps not all of them would have approved of what we are,’ Aramis indicated them both. ‘But they would not have wanted us to completely change… I’m sure.’

Porthos could not find a response, he stared at his friend who was looking at him with an expression somewhere between hope and trepidation. He realised Aramis was expecting him to say something. Before Aramis could think he had spoken out of turn Porthos reached out and lay his hand over Aramis wrist, stilling his fiddling fingers. 

‘I think you know what my answer to that would be,’ he said with a smile. ‘But you do not have to rush. We do not have to rush. I will be here when you want to carry on. I would very much like to carry on where we left off before this horror started… Aramis,’ Porthos made sure he had his friends attention before he continued, ‘you’re not just saying this because of what I did for you, are you? I would hate to think you were doing this because you felt you owed me.’

Aramis smiled, a proper genuine smile, that reached his eyes. 

‘No Porthos, this is not me thinking I owe you. This is not me needing to sate an urge either. You have opened my eyes. I was ready to be with you before the… before… that… happened. I felt excited, before. I was looking forward to whatever was going to happen between us. And I still am.’

Porthos returned the smile. He was determined to help Aramis to see that what they could have together was not wrong or a sin, that it was normal, and that it was not something he had to be ashamed of. 

He knew that Aramis could not simply forget what had happened at Savoy. Porthos knew that he could not forget it either, he would never forget the sight of the bodies of his friend, or the confusion and fear in his friends face when they were reunited. But they could carry on, it would not be exactly the same, but they would make the best of it, they would look after each other. 

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it.  
> There will be more, hopefully quicker than this one was written!  
> And I think the next story should probably be a bit lighter in tone? Or more angsty?


End file.
